


Don't you want to share the guilt?

by Janie_17



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 07:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janie_17/pseuds/Janie_17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Failure to pickup the pieces of their relationship after Jack returns from his time with the Doctor, Ianto is kind of a mess and Jack isnt sure what to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't you want to share the guilt?

**Author's Note:**

> A/n: This is based off the song of the same title, “Don’t you want to share the guilt?” by Kate Nash, so really a good bit of credit for this story should go to her because if I’d never listened to that cd I wouldn’t have thought to write this. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood nor am I affiliated with it or Kate Nash

Jack sighed deeply as he pulled the SUV up to the curb alongside Ianto’s small house. He was running late but wasn’t really very anxious to go inside. Things had been tense and strange between then since he had returned from his time with the Doctor. Some of the blame could be placed on himself from the cloud hanging over then because he wasn’t yet ready to talk about all he had seen and what had been done to him, but the rest of it came from Ianto. Before Jack had left, Ianto had been coming out of his shell, he seemed happier after coming to terms with Lisa’s death. They had started to build something special between them that seemed to have been shattered by Jack’s sudden departure and equally unannounced return. When Ianto had asked him out to dinner again after their first awkward date, Jack was surprised. He had almost said no. The discomfort between them recently was making him sick to his stomach and he didn’t know how to fix it. 

Knocking on Ianto’s front door, he heard a muffled should of “Just come in, sir.” He smirked at the formality of it, thinking absently, Ianto Jones: the picture of polite. His smile faded when he saw the younger man emerge from the bathroom, eyes dark and misty and dressed only in a towel slung low around his hips, water-droplets still visible on his pale skin. 

“How come you’re just getting out of the shower? I thought you’d be waiting for me. I’m a bit later than I meant to be,” Jack said crossing the room and gently pulling the second towel from Ianto’s hands. 

“I woke up late,” Ianto muttered. Jack checked his watch.

“It’s almost 5:30 pm.” The younger man shrugged half-heartedly. “Right…” With a sad sigh Jack began to dry him with the soft towel, taking care to be gentle around the nasty gash along his ribs. “This from the Weevil last night?” he asked when Ianto sucked in a pained breath. 

“Yeah, but it’s fine.” 

“Let me bandage it for you, since you obviously didn’t have Owen look at it,” he said firmly. Rolling his eyes, Ianto disappeared back into the bathroom, returning with the first aid kit. Jack took it from him and pulled out a packet of gauze and the medical tape. He gently covered the wound the marred Ianto’s pale and lovely skin. Jack ran his fingers softly across his chest, looking down at the space between them that felt like miles instead of the reality of inches. Hearing a soft sniffle his eyes snapped up to meet Ianto’s red rimmed and puffy ones. 

“Have you been crying?” he asked hesitantly, thumb running over the other man’s cheek. 

Ianto flinched away from the touch. “Shut up, Jack,” he snapped, though his voice came out more tired than harsh. He spun on his heel and fled for his bedroom. Jack took it as an invitation to follow when Ianto didn’t slam the door shut behind him, instead leaving it open as he pulled on his boxers and some jeans. 

As he reached for a sweater Jack said, “Let’s order in. I don’t really feel like going out anymore.” His shoulders slumped with relief. 

“No, nor I.” A small smile tugged at the young man’s lips. “Sit in the garden?” he suggested. 

Jack smiled back, grabbing his hand and tugging his arm slightly before leading him to the back door. “No chairs?” he questioned, glancing around the small fenced area. Shrugging, Ianto plopped softly down onto the ground and gestured for the other man to do the same. Jack sat down next to him and waited for Ianto to shuffle away slightly as he had so often done since his return. When he didn’t, Jack, instead, pulled the young man close, wrapping his arm about his shoulders. Ianto allowed himself to sag against Jack as his fingers absently plucked at the grass. 

“This is nice,” Jack said softly, “just spending some time together alone. I missed this.” Ianto hummed in response, non-commitally. “It will be dark soon.” 

“That usually happens about this time of day.” A smile ghosted across the younger man’s face, vanishing as soon as Jack returned it. Letting his expression fall back into a frown, he pulled the younger man closer, holding him a little tighter. He tried to channel all the regret and pain he felt into it, willing Ianto to know and understand. They remained quiet as the sun started to sink behind the trees and houses. 

Breaking the silence that fell just barely short of comfortable, Jack asked, “Tell me what you did while I was gone? But don’t just recite the reports back to me. I want to know what you did, not the team.” 

“Alright. I picked up some extra hours to give Owen and the girls a break. They didn’t need the extra stress—”

“And you did?”

“I couldn’t sleep anyways.” Ianto shrugged sadly adding, “I’ve gotten better with a gun too.” 

Jack’s eyebrows knit together in worry. Rationally he knew Ianto was a capable field agent in a pinch and fully capable of taking care of himself, but the idea of his sweet, young (former?) lover actually put in a situation where he’d have to chilled his bones. He opened his mouth to speak, not really sure what he planned on saying. 

Ianto cut him off. “Don’t, Jack. I’m fine.” He shivered slightly as the breeze picked up. 

“Let’s go inside.” The older man stood, gently pulling his young companion up with him. 

Jack watched as Ianto made a pot of coffee, seemingly on autopilot, eyes unfocused on the task at hand. It was unlike him not to put focus and care into at least his coffee if nothing else that day. He listened to his movements, wishing for something to just speak and tell him what to do. He drew closer to Ianto, wondering at just what proximity he would begin to feel the chasm between them or if that was simply the hurt he felt every day since returning home to Cardiff. He wondered, also, if they were anywhere near mending it, building bridges. He simply didn’t know. 

The pair sat on the couch, silently picking at the Chinese that had just been delivered. Around a mouthful of lo mein Ianto stated suddenly, “I don’t know how more people haven’t got mental health problems.” 

“How’s that?” Jack inquired. He sat down his food, shoving his chopsticks into the open box of rice.

“Thinking is one of the most stressful things I’ve ever come across.” 

“Worse than aliens?” Ianto ignored him. 

“And not being able to articulate what I want to say drives me crazy.” After being mostly silent for the majority of the evening, Ianto finally seemed in the mood to talk. Jack wondered what had brought on this sudden change but didn’t ask for fear of the former tense quiet. “I think I should read more books,” Ianto continued, “learn some new words. When we were kids, Rhi used to read the dictionary. She hated school but always liked words. I’m going to start with that.

“I want to travel. See India, the pyramids, watch the Tour de France. I’d be fine never going to the countryside again, though.” They both shuddered at the memory of cannibals that the talk of the country evoked. Jack opened his mouth to speak but didn’t get a chance as Ianto continued his stream of consciousness rambling. “And I’m not sure about rivers. They scare me, but I love swimming. I’m good at it. And when I swim, I count the laps. It helps me relax.

“When I was younger I watched a house burn down. I had to walk past it for the next six years, derelict, black, chalky, and dangerous. I use to wonder if squatters lived there, but now I’m not sure. I know there were never any parties there, not that I would have been invited, because it was a real shithole. The council finally got around to tidying up the neighbourhood and tore it down. On the wall behind the lot somebody wrote ‘cunt’ out in crappy graffiti. Now I get to drive past the when I go visit my Mam.” 

Jack was sitting enthralled; he couldn’t remember the last time he had heard Ianto speak so much at once. But if Jack hadn’t been worried before, it was Ianto’s next words that truly concerned him. 

“Sometimes, a lot of the time, I like being alone. And being able to shout. But I wish I could be quiet. When I’m quiet people just think I’m sad, and I usually am. But when things are loud and noisy I feel like just stopping where I am and shouting things out because I’ve got something to say and people hardly ever listen.” 

“I listen.” Jack blurted, snapping Ianto out of whatever spell had kept him speaking for so long. “I listen,” he repeated firmly, “to everything you say. You don’t have to wait for it to explode out because you can tell me.” 

“Jack,” Ianto breathed, softly. 

“And another thing, you carry around everything that has ever happened as if it was your fault. But you don’t need to bear all that weight on your soul. Let me help you. Don’t you want to share the guilt?” 

Ianto opened his mouth as if to speak, but changed his mind; instead he leaned over, pressing a soft warm kiss to Jack’s lips. 

The older man pulled away with a sad sigh. “Later,” he said thickly. There was still so much that needed to be said before they could, with good conscience, pick up that side of their relationship. He stood from the couch, holding out his hand. Ianto took it, following him to the bedroom. Jack removed the younger man’s sweater and jeans. He made sure Ianto was lying under the covers before stripping off his own shirt and trousers, kicking off his boots in the process. He climbed under in bed behind him, wrapping his lean body tightly in his arms. 

“Don’t think,” Jack whispered, kissing the back of Ianto’s neck. “Just try and sleep.” In the morning they could worry about obligations, depression, and the sad state of their relationship, but for the time being they could sleep soundly just knowing the other was there.

**Author's Note:**

> A/n: At the request of a reviewer on ff this story will be extended to more chapters at some point in the future, though I don't have a solid guess of when that would be.


End file.
